


A Gun and a Pack of Sandwiches

by Metuka



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, Ziva-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metuka/pseuds/Metuka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ziva's mind wanders as she waits for her target to arrive</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gun and a Pack of Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Un arma y un paquete de sándwiches](https://archiveofourown.org/works/750754) by [Metuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metuka/pseuds/Metuka)



> Thanks to [Sammy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSammy) for being my proof-reader.

Birds. Yet another flock of birds traveling together. A big family. Like hers, time ago. But today it’s getting cold and it’s lonely. And the girl’s been waiting for him for quite some time. He should be here by now. As the girl grows anxious, Ziva grows tired. Her legs are getting numb. Ziva pats, pats, pats them softly as she was taught. It works.

She doesn’t understand the point of watching that silly girl. She’s their key to him, but there were other alternatives. None of them involved spending so many hours seeing that bimbo do nothing. She’s boring. And entitled. Ziva doesn’t understand what he sees in her. But he said the magic words last time they spoke. The girl giggled, but she didn’t reply. She likes her boys dangerous. Not that Ziva disagrees. Fiery is good, so is feisty. He is both, that’s his downfall. And the girl’s. She’s daddy’s little one, such a graceful ballerina. She’s nothing like her at all. Still, Ziva looks away.

Her rifle looks calm in the dying light. It’s her only partner, just a gun. A gun and a pack of sandwiches. _And the voice._ They’d warned her about it. The voice, the one that makes your mind wander to places you don’t want to visit. It’s distracting, but you can’t quite kick it out because it’s embedded deep within you. Sometimes it brings you ghosts, Ari said. Sometimes it’s demons and some others it’s just lazy bliss. Ziva sighs. She’ll tell Ari when she sees him, only God and abba know when. She misses him. _Them._ It’s been too long this time.

The bread tastes stale. They should have thrown it away. _But at least you’ve got food._ She watches some more. It’s still the girl, now watching TV and snorting impatiently. Yes, he’s taking forever, but him being late means some more stolen minutes. She can’t be spared. Ziva would have wanted to, the girl just made some poor choices, it’s her only crime. Now she’ll pay for it with a bullet. Her rifle is ready. So is Ziva, but he won’t show up.

Darkness is here in more than one place. Green concealer to hide reddish skin areas. Then, foundation. The girl's pick is too tan. It makes her look cheap. And the shadows, they’re all messed up. _Just because I don’t do makeup, it doesn’t mean I can’t._ They taught her on her first days. She’d have to look like a rose: beautiful, thorny. Or maybe like cute, poisonous oleander. The ones at aunt Netty’s are so big. Ziva was just a little girl back then, she didn’t understand why mummy got so angry when she saw her with a bouquet.

What if he’s gone for good? Malachi said he’d pick his girl up, but it’s too risky. He might not love her as much. That girl’s such a fool. Juliet, that’s the name they picked for her. _What does that make me?_ He should have been here so long ago. It’s dark now, but she can’t use her scope to watch the stars. And the girl is boring and looks cheap. If Ziva were him, she wouldn’t come back. _A dozen a quarter, was that the idiom?_ English. It’s getting rusty. If abba finally sends her to the States, she’ll need some practice. _And some holidays before._

She’d like somewhere warm and sunny. Someplace calm, with lots of open spaces and no work at sight. Maybe the beach where the girl and her beau went. It was a nice spot, with couples everywhere. They used to walk hand in hand. Ziva would look at them, jot down what she saw. The girl liked to be on top. _And, damn, wasn’t she flexible._ A different kind of voyeur would have had a blast. Ziva, she just got some interesting ideas for her spare time. _Or for some mission, you never know._

He’s a no-show. He’s left the girl. So what should Ziva do now, other than await instructions? Take a deep breath, loosen her shoulders. It’s Malachi’s call. He’s been too quiet, playing a bum a couple of blocks away. The girl’s hardly a prize, but she can’t live. She’s just an idiot. It’s such a shame Ziva will have to blow her beautiful, empty head off. She’ll ask. Who knows, the girl might get lucky.

“Malachi, what if—”

“Your limo’s here.”

It will soon be over. The van’s waiting right outside. It will end soon. She checks her rifle and the girl. Yes, there he is, vrooming around the corner. Talk about stealth. Two bullets. Poor little girl making the wrong decisions. Poor ballerina.

But no matter whom she reminds Ziva of. She has to.

“I’m ready.”


End file.
